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Jeremy Betts Apr 15
Thoughts deflate then wither in silence,
Contained in this skull shaped dome
Breath taxis the sound like an organic drone
But delivers to no one,
A voiceless zone
They said they'd be here,
But no one's shown
It isn't new,
Still don't know what to do to atone
I wouldn't say I'm not lonely,
Just not alone
Many fractured personalities have left the nest,
Off to make a life of their own
I try to keep the piece on my own
Not a radical idea
Though
Not something I'd condone
It increases the gravity of a situation,
One I could have never known
But what's another boulder to a shoulder of stone?
The devil on the other shoulder is now older and grown
Adopting a fatherly tone
I got a bone to pick with him,
But that'll have to wait till we find home

©2024
Poetic T Nov 2020
Well this has a deflating feeling but
                         a pumped upending.  

There was a little one, he was always
kicked around, but they were the best
of times, boot or hand he didn't mind.

Scuff marks marking his features,
   every now and then washed off
Mudd crusted between stitches.

If he felt a little deflated they'd
be positive pumping him up full
of air once again.

It was him and them for a time,
  but it moves on.
He went out less and less,
  it was summer and he went
           out once.
Sitting on the windowsill
wishing to between the blades
of grass. at the end of a foot and
                   a goal post.

Not being kicked and thrown
around, then it got real, he was
put in the shed empty not feeling
the air between his stitches anymore.

Then he heard voices in the back,
   don't worry you have friends,
Were all a little deflated in here?
I think some of us were mislaid.
Forgotten by mistake or we like
to think that. Hi, I'm seasonal, I'm beach.
Now I'm just missing the sunshine.

I got a puncture, I wasn't as floaty
anymore, I was their favorite  seaside
friend, you see they fixed my bobo.
I don't leak anymore, but they didn't
fill me up or throw me again.

I was put in here for another time,
but I only see them when they are
looking for lost things, but not me.

Meet tennis and his sister,
there a right pair, one always going
over the net, the other hoping that  
the other would hit so they could
feel the air bouncing between the
                            racket and them.

The racket was in here, but never talked
just time pulling at his strings,
sagging as if a smile hanging upside down.

We have been in here a while,
  don't know how long, we just
chat about the fun times before.

So they told each other stories wondering
what it would have been to be the other.
Laughing and joking at the possibility
of either hit by a boot or floating so high
in the air,  as if they'd never hit the ground.

Time passed and one day the family all
came to the shed, older than before.

Oh my gosh, I remember you guys..

Mum, I found the beachball, oh my gosh
he's still got his kitty plaster on...
They pumped him up and he went in to
the air, he could feel the heat of the sun,
and it felt right again.

They grabbed me I was a little shrunken,
  And the boy now a man, oh my gosh..
I thought I lost you, they pumped me up.
He did tricks with me, on knee head and
foot, wow he's got better as time passed.

Then racket came out with tennis and his
sister, what shall we do with these,
   Oh' no they thought are going to end up
in the trash.

But they saw racket tightened his strings,
and then the yellow siblings where smacked
against the wall, they smiled at the noise and
the feel of Racket upon them again.

The sun was beaming and everything felt
like before. But then they were put into
the car with other objects, a vase slightly
chipped, but beautiful anyway.
Books, with folded pages, what stories
they could tell us, another time anyway.

We traveled a while, hearing noises
outside, And handed to another,
don't worry we'll find them a new home.
We were put on shelves, price tags stuck
to us, we were left behind pieces that
others didn't want to throw away.
But finding us a new home, racket and the
twins were first to go,
                    at least they weren't separated.

A new face taking them home cuddling,
holding them tight, a home was found.
Then it was beaches turn, a little girl with
her mummy, she saw the kitty plaster and
was smitten. She threw him in the air
i could see him smile at the thought of
once again being thrown again.

Me I was the last, I was asleep didn't even
realise that I'd even been sold.
Rudley awoke to a foot in my face.
what the, and I could feel the air between
my fibers, I could see children and more
of me being kicked around.

I was among others as laughter and glee,
as we were kicked and thrown, it felt like
home again, not the one before but a new
one I was inflated and gliding between posts,
back of the net, and out again.

Home is where ever you feel needed,
and never let yourself feel deflated as
we are all useful in our own way.

I have to go as I have fourteen children
chasing after me, and there I go.
boot to me and in the air, I fly again.
Poetic T Apr 2020
Tethered upon my shoulders,
          loose threads keeping me

from being decapitated

             from
             mundane consequences.

But,

What would happen If
            I'd  held my breath letting all the
air out.

deflated meanings of life,

                                               freedom..
T
CautiousRain Jul 2019
Salted, flimsy orange rinds,
bittered instead of sweetened:
these are all I eat nowadays.

Crystalline textures coat my insides,
my blood pressure’s at an all-time high,
and my tensions are shooting through the roof.
By god, I’m so naïve,
So untouched by anything other than this,
it seems unlikely
that I would taste such saccharine things,
I’d be much more inclined to shrivel up my insides,
dehydrate all my limbs and pack them
like raw meat in a harsh winter.

I feel useless again.
this poem might as well be the poem wilted's long lost cousin
Everybody always quotes about laying in bed at night, alone and depressed, but nobody ever states what it feels like to lie in the comfort of your own bed at any hour of the day, with no one to take and give comfort to. You're alone in the sunlight, empty and distressed over the fact that you have no one at all to spend your time with. The day is when you are meant to have fun, and be with people, but when you are explicitly alone then, well, that is when you feel the most deflated and dejected.
Poetic T Nov 2014
And so the green balloons did grow
Inflated, nurtured over time,
This tree of air
Nitrogen,
Oxygen,
Carbon
Dioxide,
Argon,
Traces of other gases too,
Out side was warm
Internal temp minus triple degrees,
What had been barren branches
Now sustained as these
Strings matured forth
Buds of latex and rubber grew,
Liquid air exhaled as the buds nurtured  
Air expanded with warm the green balloons
Grew
&
Grew
Sprung forth in to life what once was
Small, now expanded fuelled by the
Cold fuel of the tree of white,
In the winds they did gesture
As if dancing putting on a show
Tree,
Branch,
String,
Green balloons flourished there veins
Feeding air anew,
Blustery winds picked up
Strings did snap, green balloons did
Float away, drifting upon high
Into a sea of blue,
But as seasons change,
Green balloons became loose
Many floated away to places new
Those that did not,
Deflated,
Depleted,
Exhausted,
Nourishment of air, no longer green ballons
Phenomenon's of gases changed
And green faded now this tree of air
Brought forth new shades of
   Yellows,
Purples,
Black,
Oranges,
So these colours did fall from the tree,
Floating not as before,
They did descend, slowly to the floor,
Biodegradable. they did fade
From view, not what they were before,
The life cycle of these green balloons
The tree of white grows evermore cold,
For seasons change and green balloons will
Grow again next spring  floating in the air once more.
All balloon poems/writes can be found by  balloon-series
Nature science & balloons

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